


Swear To Be Overdramatic (And True)

by rhodee



Series: soulmate one-shots [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Banter, Battle of New York (Marvel), Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), First Kiss, Humor, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23947810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodee/pseuds/rhodee
Summary: “I am hardly afool.”Ah, well, at least his soulmate isn’t afoolishhomicidal maniac.---The one where Tony finds out the person who just choked him is his soulmate, and punches him.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: soulmate one-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691587
Comments: 20
Kudos: 615





	Swear To Be Overdramatic (And True)

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back with another ficlet in the middle of writing her dissertation?  
> Yup, that's right. Yours truly.  
> Enjoy some nice soulmate feels :D
> 
> (Title from Taylor Swift's Lover)

> _A light, blinding as it is designed_  
>  _A sign of souls entwined_  
>  _A mortal feat to immortalize_  
>  _A true love shall eternize_

Tony Stark had heard that verse a thousand times, softly sung by his mother while she tucked him into bed as a child. Sometimes, he even sings it to himself. It’s one of his fondest memories of her. 

He’s been witness to several instances where people meet their soulmate; sometimes in formal parties where people just shake hands, sometimes in not so formal parties where there are a lot of naked women rubbing themselves against rich guys in suits. It would have only been a moment of physical contact, a single _touch,_ and the burst of light that followed was almost blinding. Overwhelming, and yet, assuring. 

After all, where there was light, there was hope. A hope for settling down, having a family, maybe even two kids running around in the backyard. 

Tony must have gone wrong somewhere, he thinks, because he’s _forty-two_ and presently in conversation with a tyrant god intent on enslaving the whole planet. 

“How will your friends have time for me,” Loki says, striking blue eyes targeted on Tony as he walks over, ever so slow, and ever so threatening. “When they’re so busy fighting you?” 

The implication hits Tony the moment Loki finishes speaking. The hum of the Sceptre grows louder as Loki lifts it, inching closer to his chest, and Tony realizes there’s nothing he can do now. He’s seen the footage; he’s seen how quickly Barton and Selvig had turned. Tony can only stare at Loki, hidden behind his overconfident facade, and watch the Sceptre in his peripheral vision, waiting for the sharp prick against skin. 

_Clink._

It meets right at the center of his arc reactor. Tony waits. He waits for Loki to take over his consciousness; waits to get trapped out of his own mind; waits for the empty shell of a man.

Nothing happens. 

Loki blinks, just once, and pokes Tony again. The _clink_ echoes, but again, nothing happens. Tony watches as a frown creases into Loki’s forehead, eyes on the Sceptre, and then: “This usually works.” 

“Well, performance issues,” Tony pulls an expression of second-hand embarrassment. He feels for the guy, _really._ “It’s… not uncommon. One out of five–” His attempt to lighten the situation is abruptly cut off with Loki’s hand gripping his neck, hoisting him off the floor. 

He feels… no pain. There’s an oddly warm sensation blooming from where skin makes contact and then–

_White, blinding light._

No way. 

_A sign of souls entwined._

No _fucking_ way. Not now. Not this _lunatic._

He tries to squint through the brightness – fairly sure his retina is temporarily, if not permanently damaged. Who the fuck decided this was the best way to confirm a soulmate pairing? 

Loki seems to have been caught off-guard too, grasp loosening on Tony’s neck until the shorter man gets his footing. Loki, thankfully, doesn’t bother reattaching hand to neck again. 

“What–” Loki starts, and Tony – with all his experience of boxing with Happy, with every bit of strength in his body conjured into his fist – delivers the most impressive right hook he’s ever had the pleasure of throwing. It hits Loki right at the jaw, fracturing a few of Tony’s own fingers himself, and Loki promptly stumbles back. 

“ _Ow!_ Fuck.” Tony curses, shaking his hand and cradling it with the other. The pain is _absolutely_ unbearable, but seeing Loki’s aghast face is a partial cure. Loki snaps an angry gaze towards Tony – and what was Tony even thinking punching the guy? 

Maybe the fact that his fucking _soulmate_ is an immortal, homicidal, _maniac._

“You _heathen,”_ Loki hisses, emerald green eyes fitted with the most impressive glare Tony has ever– _wait._ That’s not right. _Green?_

He could’ve _sworn_ it was–

Tony’s eyes land on the Sceptre that is still in Loki’s grip. 

Son of a _bitch_. 

_“You,”_ Tony accuses, pointing a broken finger at the enraged god, “I’m taking a wild guess here – and _don’t_ correct me if I’m wrong – but this,” –he motions to the general direction of the machine on his balcony, “is not you, yes?” 

The anger is wiped off of his face in an instant, replaced with an expression of sheer offense. “Of _course_ not,” Loki goes so far as to scoff at the absurdity of it _._ “I am hardly a _fool.”_

Ah, well, at least his soulmate isn’t a _foolish_ homicidal maniac. 

“You see how I might find that hard to believe? Since you’ve grown up with Thor?” He starts walking backward to the refrigerator, fairly sure there’s an ice pack that could cater to his incapacitated hand.

Loki stiffens – ever so slightly, Tony wouldn't even have noticed if he weren't watching the god like a hawk – and a scowl forms on his face. There is a moment of awkward reconsideration of his words. _Why the hell did I bring up Thor?_ But, to Tony's good fortune, the expression doesn't last long, because Loki soon lets out a small crack of a smile. “I see how you’d be my soulmate.”

That, naturally, does not help the current situation. Tony may have forgotten about his brain to mouth filter as he speaks “ _Great_ , you guys have that too?" Brain catches up. "Uh, not that I’m completely, _irrevocably_ , honored because this would probably go down in history as the worst– wait, where are you going?” 

Loki stops from where he was walking away, turning back with a smirk and raised brow. “The portal has to be shut down. Unless you prefer the Chitauri to come and wreak havoc on your little city?” There was a strange lilt to his voice, and Tony, to his horror, realizes the question was actually serious.

“No, yeah. Good move. I second that.” Loki walks away, seemingly pleased with the response.

Ice pack long forgotten, Tony is now in the hunt for a first-aid kit. JARVIS helps him out with that, thankfully, pointing out the shelf by the counter, second from the right. He finds a pain relief spray, and a thick roll of white bandage – which should essentially do the trick for the time being. He’s not all that keen on a finger cast. 

The relief spray is cold and burning against his skin, and Tony lets it permeate his skin before spraying a second coat. Honestly, right now, broken fingers aren’t even the worst of this situation, because here he is, waiting for Loki ( _read: his soulmate_ ) to return after halting his invasion of Earth. 

He takes the bandage in his good hand, turning around and leaning against the counter as he unwraps it, when a smug-faced Loki literally _materializes_ in front of him. Tony can barely suppress his yelp, grip loosening on the bandage which conveniently rolls away from his grip and stops right between their feet. 

Loki bends down to pick it up, maybe it’s his way of extending an olive branch, but Tony’s just _offended._ “You’ve been able to do” –a vague motion towards Loki, “ _that_ the _entire_ time? In Stuttgart? The quinjet? In the _helicarrier?_ ” 

“Of course.” Again, Loki has the galls to look offended as he stands up, taking Tony’s hand in his own. Tony doesn’t even register that, still stumped about the teleporting shtick, as Loki continues. “You couldn’t have possibly thought I was _restrained_ in that glass room.” 

Tony’s only vaguely aware of long, nimble fingers on his hand as they carefully dress the bandage over his fingers. The movements are quick, precise and agile. He leaves Tony’s thumb free for movement. And he can’t help but be surprised that Loki actually knows what he’s doing. Shouldn’t have expected anything less from a thousand-year-old god. 

But really? A _thousand_ years old? Tony takes a good long look at Loki. He doesn’t even look a day past _twenty-five._ Pale, porcelain skin pulled over sharp features that seem immune to the passage of time. And there was something so _beguiling_ about his radiant green eyes, going almost effortlessly well with dark hair that curled by the nape of his neck. Speaking of which, said eyes flick up to Tony’s just for a moment and back down, before they snap back up again, suddenly aware of Tony’s eyes drooling over him. Loki’s hands are still working on the bandage, and Tony wants to look down, _break the gaze_ , but he’s transfixed to Loki’s face. It feels like a drug induced high.

When Loki finally speaks, it’s after he finishes dressing Tony’s hand. Tony, on the other hand, hadn’t even bothered to stop staring. “I suggest you call off the rest of your team before they barge in on our…” Loki pauses, almost deliberately, and then: “… moment”

The pause gives Tony enough time to recover. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. I’m a one-man army.”

“Of course.” Loki says, throwing a pointed look at Tony’s bandaged hand. The gaze lingers, and then, almost as if in a trance, Loki’s thumb swipes over the exposed skin at the base of Tony’s thumb. It feels strangely intimate. Tony clears his throat. 

“How about that drink now?” Tony asks, moving to the side, away from Loki’s touch on his hand. If Loki’s offended, he doesn’t show it, instead the god only hums non-committedly in response. Tony takes it as a yes. 

He swipes the glass he had just drank from en route to the bar, and takes a second glass for Loki. The god makes himself comfortable beside him, right in Tony’s personal space, because apparently, Loki owns the air around Tony. 

He’s just finished pouring the drinks when he realizes he’s had enough of the intentionally uncomfortable silence. “So, what’s on the docket? You staying back here?” 

“I might consider it if you don’t punch me again,” Loki says, and when it earns him a raised eyebrow, he continues, “One broken hand _would_ be better than two.” 

“Hm. Jury’s out. I can be reckless.” There’s an impish glint in Tony’s eyes

Loki hums in response, his own eyes matching the glint in Tony’s. “Is it so?” and Tony doesn’t bother with a reply as he leans forward to pin Loki with a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it!


End file.
